


Any Old Port in a Storm

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Find It Fix It Flog It RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, Kissing, M/M, Rain, Semi-Public Sex, Storms, Touching, taking shelter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 07:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19848916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: It's throwing it down with rain, and Henry and Simon take cover from the storm in one of the sheds--Simon couldn't resist Henry like this. He was glistening from the rain, droplets from his hair glinting in the darkness, slightly pooling at the base of his neck and collarbone, the man a pure temptation. And he couldn't resist the sheer privacy of this unusual situation, with not a soul around.





	Any Old Port in a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

They were soaked through, and - of course - Si had nicked Henry's hat to try and keep himself dry, but - as it wasn't made from waterproof plastic, like a raincoat - it didn't really do much for him anyway. And Henry looked like he'd been in the shower, wet strands of fringe damply glued to his forehead. And all so that the Liverpudlian upcycler could wax lyrical about the potential of a coffee table made out of pallets and parquet flooring - both of which, naturally, were placed out in the elements. They couldn't have been, like many of the items _were_ , inside one of the sheds - now could they? But that was where they clearly should be heading. As the heavens poured and the storm howled, they dashed inside, Henry pressing his back against the flimsy door and fencing them in.

 _Simon couldn't resist Henry like this._ He was glistening from the rain, droplets from his hair glinting in the darkness, slightly pooling at the base of his neck and collarbone, the man a pure temptation. And he couldn't _resist_ the sheer privacy of this unusual situation, with not a soul around - who was going to venture out in this weather and catch them in the act? He grabbed the bearded presenter, hungrily, and grinned with a sharkish gleam.

Henry couldn't help but think it funny, as the rain lashed down outside, with might of biblical proportions... In fact, did he just see an ark full of animals sail past the window? No - _forget_ that - he needed to focus on the task at hand, which was - _his_ hands pulling the wet material of Simon's t-shirt away from his skin with a notable snap, dragging him towards his own weary but _wanting_ body, throwing the pair of them against the secured door - the thin wrought iron bolt barely holding up as they leaned on the creaking wooden surface, kissing and scrabbling for every touch. Henry couldn't help but think it _funny_ , as the rain lashed down outside, that the lovemaking currently occurring _inside_ of the barn was every bit as ferocious and wild.

As the door rattled from the storm's battering, O'Brien moved against Cole rhythmically, time after time, grinding their bodies together - bodies which were getting hot and bothered rather quickly, more desperate and excited in certain places - Henry's back wasn't the _only_ thing feeling stiff from the pounding action. As the the clouds heaved and groaned with their release of rain, they too were certainly not the _only_ thing needy for release. And, as Simon growled, Henry wasn't quite sure if it was thunder; as Si gasped, he wasn't quite sure if it was the lightning. Hands cupped O'Brien's bottom and urged him forwards, roughly. In the tussle, Cole's jeans were already halfway to the floor, and he could feel the wetness of the damp wood against the bare backs of his shivering legs, and the wind whistling through the cracks in the old door.

So this was how it felt to be _alive_ , thought Henry, as he hissed - _tensed_ in Simon's skilled grip a few seconds later, panting a stream of curses into the crook of his neck. Even more so - alright then, perhaps _equal_ to - a blast out on the old motorbike. No - perhaps _more_ so, after all - I mean, who'd ever go out on a motorbike ride on a day like today? You'd have to be bloody _mad_. He juggled the thoughts in his mind as he threw back his still sopping hair against the wall, sated, _breathless_. Si smiled at him. This rain didn't seem like stopping _any_ time soon.


End file.
